****
By the time Bennet staggered in, Rothrock was already dressing. The sky would soon grow light. Rothrock came to a sudden decision.
"George, I believe it's time to take thought, and see some of the strangeness of this place for ourselves."
"Better than burying ourselves in musty words all day. What do you propose?"
"The high Ring Wall first, perhaps. The tram runs as far as the coal mine; the cliffs there are supposed to be striking in the morning light."
"Good enough, James, good enough. I can sleep later; I've done it often enough before. Ha! Onward to the tram stop."
****
It was, indeed, a rare sight. Once past the mine works, the view of the cliffs opened up. The changing colors of the eastern sky reflected from the perfectly spherical inner surface, rising from the valley floor to an astonishing height and incongruously topped with a ragged edge of soil and trees. Small sprays of miniature waterfalls flickered in the changing light. Part of the wall was adorned with striking diagonal bands; in places, it glittered.
As the sunlight reached the ground, Rothrock began to look more at their surroundings. In places, there were lines of dirt and gravel, where loose stuff must have fallen from the cliff top. Some untutored artist had painted a slapdash depiction of an up-time car, emerging from the cliff face where the cataclysm had made an end of the road. That seemed to catch Bennet's eye; he started to move closer.
"Have a care, George, the pamphlet warned against coming too close under that overhanging wall. See how much has already fallen!"
Bennet seemed oblivious. Suddenly he went to one knee beside the road, and pointing to the ground, exclaimed, "Look, James!" His head moved from side to side. He waved to Rothrock to stand behind him and look over his shoulder.
And there it was. A tiny fragment, too small to make out its shape, and as Rothrock moved to get a better view, the morning sunlight glinting from it changed from amber to violet. Rothrock sucked in his breath. He had seen this once before, at a salon in the company of the earl, set into a golden ring on the hand of a French nobleman. The enigmatic Ring's Fire. Here! Mere yards from the foot of the Ring Wall itself!
Rothrock's thoughts flew into turmoil. This chip itself was insignificant; it might bring a few shillings, conceivably a pound, nothing more. He looked more closely. The earth around it showed signs of considerable disturbance, and not recently. Someone had been thorough, and undoubtedly left nothing worth taking. But such things rarely are found atop the ground. Could it have fallen from above? While Bennet carefully lifted the little thing from its resting place with the tip of his dirk, Rothrock stepped back a hundred yards and looked again at the awesome wall. There was a man-high dark hole near the top, almost directly above the spot where George was rising to his feet. Perhaps . . .
****
Unlike some towns, Grantville didn't divide itself into different quarters where neighboring shops practiced related trades. On the contrary, this small shop dealing in an eclectic mix of unusual minerals, the tools and supplies for seeking them, and all manner of rugged outdoor equipment was tucked into a mechanical laundry. The building itself was a melange of construction styles.
Rothrock watched the girl behind the counter listing the climbing equipment in front of them on a printed rental contract form. She was a bit slow totaling the charges. Perhaps she was new to the abacus. Probably so; she worked the sum twice.
When she straightened up and separated the forms to hand him the "carbon copy," he was startled to see the signature at the bottom, Paola Villareal.
Villareal? Some relation? Do I dare try to make conversation, and see what we might learn from that?
Before he could carry the thought any further, she suddenly glared over his shoulder. When Rothrock followed her gaze, George Bennet was licking his lips lasciviously. He hurriedly concluded the business without another word, and directed a cold look at Bennet on the way out. "Have you lost all sense of where we are? It could be disastrous to attract the attention of those men in blue uniforms across the way. Our absent friend has written of them; they are expert at what they do. Merely because we see her flesh up to her knees does not make her a whore. Such is not the custom here."
Bennet laughed. "No, just a slut and maybe a witch. I've heard about up-timer women! The presumption of the temptresses is beyond belief!"
Rothrock was disquieted beyond words.
The Thuringen Gardens
June
The noon rush was about to hit. Carlos did a quick eyeball check of the stock behind the bar, to see what they'd need to bring up right away. A glitter in the lost-and-found box caught his eye. He picked it up for a better look. It was a little polycrystalline cluster, with a void near one end. Somebody had strung it on a leather shoelace, with a complicated knot. He tilted it. The color changed from burnt orange in one direction to purple the other way. Huh? What in hell? Ametrine? He mumbled, "How the heck did this turn up?"
Jake Chekhov was out front, wiping down tables. If Chekhov wasn't the king of grouches, he was at least a count. He half-turned his head and growled, "How is what a turnip?"
"Huh? Not a turnip, Jake. I said 'turn up.' It means, how did it get here?" It didn't make a damn bit of sense for a chunk of ametrine to be in Germany-or anywhere in Europe, for that matter. The part of South America that stuff came from probably hadn't even been explored yet.
Chekhov glanced at the cluster Carlos was holding, and said, "That junk? It was onna floor last night. I woulda swept it out, but that string says it belongs to somebody, so I stuck it in lost-and-found like you said to. Why?"
"Why is because it's a rare mineral. Really rare. If anybody asks, tell them I've got it. I want to show this to Oughtred and ask him if he's seen anything like it."
Chekhov got a funny look on his face. "That mean somebody'd pay money for it?"
"They would, up-time. But who the hell knows, now?"
July 9
A bang like a howitzer shook Carlos awake and blew away the remnants of his dream. Livie was up on her knees, looking out through the blinds with a broad grin on her face. She looked down at him when he moved. "Did you see that? What a heck of a fireworks show!"
Just as he turned his head to look, another blue-white lightning bolt lit up the sky. He pushed the covers off and swung around to see better. Livie moved in and put an arm around his shoulders. She kissed his earlobe for a moment, then looked out the bedroom window again. He glanced at her sidewise, speculatively. "Are you thinking about making some thunder of our own?"
"Could be, big boy, could be. Kiss me right here."
****
Olivia was humming to herself when Carlos finished shaving and came into the kitchen. "Toast'll be ready in a minute." She poured the coffee.
For a few minutes they didn't talk; they didn't need to. There were a few distant rumbles as the storm line moved on and the rain tapered away.
As Carlos finished washing up and put away the silverware, he snapped his fingers and pulled open the next drawer down. "Oh, yeah, don't want to forget this."
Olivia looked over at the small cluster of crystals he was holding, strung on a strip of leather. It didn't look familiar, but she'd never been quite the rockhound Carlos was. It was more the outdoors itself that she enjoyed. "Mm? What's that?"
"Real good question. It looks like ametrine, and that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. The janitor found it on the floor at the Gardens. I want to show it to Will, and see if he's seen anything like it."